


the sweetest love

by DarkBard



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Breastfeeding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Lactation Kink, Mommy Kink, Pseudo-Incest, Underage - Freeform, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBard/pseuds/DarkBard
Summary: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Ciri seeks an unexpected comfort from Yennefer.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 1
Kudos: 60





	the sweetest love

They’ve had a rough start.

It’s been months since Yennefer arrived to train the girl at the Temple of Melitele and they’ve still not made significant progress. With Geralt, the girl had been pliable, excited, enthusiastic. With Yennefer, she’s withdrawn, frustrated, on edge.

Yennefer knows it’s at least partially due to the subject matter. Learning to hunt and shoot and ride and fight are all delightfully exciting for a wild thing with a sense of adventure like Ciri, and less of an intellectual strain, too. The study of sorcery, as Yennefer well knows, is not for the faint of heart.

It’s obvious that the girl has access to immense primal power, but harnessing it will continue to be a struggle.

There’s also the matter of Ciri’s little crush.

Ciri is nervous around Yennefer, dropping potions at a touch of the shoulder, getting distracted by her cleavage when she’s supposed to be practicing spells. It is...not unflattering, Yen supposes, although altogether unproductive. 

Yennefer is startled awake in her huge four-poster bed by a strange, sharp ache in her breasts. 

“What the fuck,” she breathes.

Ciri unlatches from her nipple with a wide-eyed look of panic. She’s curled up next to Yennefer in bed, little pale hand standing out against the tawny breast it clings to––a breast that’s noticeably swollen beyond its normal size. A few drops of milk dribble from the sorceress and she can’t help the little moan that escapes her.

“I didn’t mean to, Lady Yennefer.” It’s a high-pitched, gentle whine. “I’m sorry, please don’t...please don’t be angry.”

There’s a little white droplet of milk on her quivering lip. Yennefer wants to lick it clean.

“I wasn’t lactating when I fell asleep, little ugly one.” All things considered, she feels like she is maintaining her composure remarkably well. “Why am I now?”

“I just wanted to be close to you,” Ciri murmurs, not meeting her mentor’s eyes. “I dreamed of the winged knight again and I...I crawled in bed with you. But I was scared and I kept crying and I wished that there was something that would...would calm me down. And then I saw where you had wet spots on your pretty nightgown and I thought I could help us both.”

That explains that lightning-strike smell of magic, the subtle glow in the skin of Ciri’s hand still clutching her breast.

_Fuck._

And maybe she shouldn’t––maybe she should banish Ciri back to her own room and find some magical solution to the issue at hand, but the child is trembling, still shaken from her nightmare, little pink tongue flicking out to capture the stray drops of milk. And if Ciri needed this so desperately that her latent powers filled Yennefer’s chest nigh to bursting...

The tingling pressure is nearly unbearable. 

Yennefer slips her arms through the nightgown’s wide neckline, letting the garment fall to her waist as those green eyes lustily drink her bare torso in. The sorceress positions a few pillows to prop her up so she’s reclined with her upper body fairly upright.

“Come here, little one,” she murmurs, stretching a hand out to the girl.

Ciri stared at her for a moment before scrambling to meet her. Yennefer laughs, shaking her head as she positions the ashen-haired head in her lap, guiding her chest gently down to meet her. Ciri latches onto her right breast, suckling hard, much harder than Yennefer has ever imagined a baby would. Unthinking, her little hand reaches up to Yennefer’s left breast, massaging it in her small, delicate palm, relieving a little pressure and quite making a mess, though Yen can’t seem to find it in herself to care much about that.

Gods, it’s _good_.

The sweet mouth on her tit and the release of hormones, the desperate little snuffling noises Ciri makes against her. The hazy, deep sensation as she drifts––not to sleep, just drifted pleasantly, her mind unfocused, her cunt weeping and her clit throbbing. She brushes a hand through Ciri’s hair, the smooth, silky strands a grounding tactile sensation.

With a whine, Ciri pulls off, wriggling around until she’s lying down with her body pressed to Yen’s as she sucks greedily at the neglected left breast. The new position is more active, more intense, and the slick, burning need between her legs suddenly feels much more immediate.

As if reading her mind, a small, thin leg slips between Yennefer’s, small thighs straddling the sorceress's leg tight. Ciri’s nightgown is rucked up nearly to her waist, and it doesn’t take long before Yen feels it: the frantic slide of a bare young cunt bucking wildly against her smooth leg.

“There you go, little ugly one,” Yennefer cooed softly, her head drifting back with a moan. “You’re being such a good girl for me, love, aren’t you? Helping your mama feel better?”

At the words, Ciri moans brokenly around her nipple, her lithe body convulsing against Yennefer’s thigh.

“My good little girl,” she repeats, petting Ciri’s back protectively as she continues to suckle, aftershocks running through her, “going to be so nice and strong and well-nourished after you let your mama take care of you. Do you want this all the time, little Ciri? Do you want Mama’s milk every day so you can grow up big and strong?”

Ciri releases her teat, tears streaming down her pale face. “Can I please, Mama?” she begs, nosing against the swollen breasts for comfort.

Yen does her best to ignore the thrill that runs through her at Ciri’s immediate adoption of the name. “ _May_ I please, Cirilla.”

“ _May_ I please, Mama?” She’s smiling, now, biting her lip shyly.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Yennefer laughs as Ciri unexpectedly throws her whole body into a rather wet hug, her arms circling her new mama’s neck. “A kiss for your mama, little ugly one?”

Ciri blushes, at the endearment or at the request, but she lowers her lips to Yennefer’s. The mage licks lightly at the seam of her lips, shuddering at the overwhelming, unfamiliar sweetness of her own milk. 

Carefully, she settles the sleepy girl on her side, an arm around her.

“Just a little more?” Ciri yawns, green eyes hidden behind fluttering pale eyelashes.

Yennefer laughs, positioning her breast carefully to the girl’s mouth. She caresses Ciri’s jaw as she latches on once more, eyes closed, a blissful expression on her face. “Get some sleep, my little one,” Yen whispers, free hand finally drifting down to her own dripping, neglected cunt.

It’s not long before they’re both lost in a tranquil, dreamless sleep.


End file.
